The Wood

The character of trees depends on the season; in spring they watch you. In early winter, in solitude and great empty skies, they have no more botany than stone.
Tonight, the seven oaks are the temple pillars of a lost civilization. 
- The Wood, John Lewis-Stempel

Ahh, the wood. When I cannot get there in person, a book will bring me there in my imagination. This book was a perfect immersion into the environment of Cockshutt Wood, located in southwest Herefordshire in England. I was transported to England by way of these pages.

Here in these pages, I got to commune with nature by way of wonderfully descriptive words that built out the world of the wood for me to imagine. Told in a diary form, each day John wrote about what he encountered as he managed the wood. Old Brown (the tawny owl) was a frequent character as his life played out amongst the ancient tress. The frosty, frigid experiences as his hands froze but the work went on because the woods are always in motion. 

The wonder and glory of the spring when bluebells erupt from the ground and I can imagine the carpet covering the land with a wonder I hope to one day see myself in person. The heat of the summer, and the shade offered by the graceful limbs of the trees, covering the land as havens to mushrooms, ducks, rabbits, and owls. The nuts of abundance to collect a roast in the autumn time when leaves turn into magical hues before they fall in showers.

Speaking of trees, the wonder of all these trees in this wood growing in harmony, native to the land, fills me with joy. Their names:

oak
beech
sallow
hazel
wild cherry
silver birch
ash
larch
alder
elder
elm
service
holly

I agree with John as he writes many times how when we care for nature, nature cares for us. I think that when we care for the woods, we are caring for God's wonder-filled creation.

Trees are musical instruments. Each tree, like each human-fabricated musical instrument, is made different by design.